So, if you’ve read the ‘About’ page then you will know that I have Asperger’s. What you might not know is what the fudge Asperger’s is.
In short, Asperger’s is a form of autism. Wikipedia, the universal font of all knowledge and misinformation, describes it as:
…an autism spectrum disorder that is characterized by significant difficulties in social interaction, along with restricted and repetitive patterns of behavior and interests. It differs from other autism spectrum disorders by its relative preservation of linguistic and cognitive development.
In short this means I am socially inept, interested in only a few specific topics and show a total lack of curiosity for pretty much everything else, and I lack empathy and find it hard to connect with people on an emotional level.
On top of this I also suffer from a number of traits commonly associated with Autism, some of which are infuriating and make life quite unpleasant at times. For example I find the feel of certain fabrics against my skin unbearable, namely wool, linen and silk. This means that wearing suits and slinky negligees are completely out of the question for me which is a real shame because I look DAMN good in a suit. The jury is out on whether or not I can pull off the negligee look.
I’ve been fortunate in recent years to be able to get away with working for companies who don’t seem to care too much (or at least not make any comment on the matter) that I am rarely dressed in suitable business attire. I won’t go into details but suffice to say my attire is a source of much irritation for my family, especially the jeans which are literally held together by my own (limited) sewing skills. Trouble is I find I can’t concentrate on what I am doing if I am not wearing something I consider to be ‘comfortable’. If I wear a suit I fidget incessantly the entire day, I roll up my trouser legs to minimise the amount of skin in contact with the material, and so forth. When I was in school and had to wear these god awful linen trousers I ended up wearing TWO pairs of trousers, one on top of the other, just to be able to get through the day. When that wasn’t possible then I would retreat to my room (it was a boarding school) and rip my trousers off and sit about in my underwear or a pair of shorts to take a break from my discomfort. Ah, if only I’d known back then… Maybe I could have gotten a note from my doctor or mumsy giving me permission to dress like a bum ON MEDICAL GROUNDS!
When I was in a different school and a member of the CCF (Combined Cadet Force, or Conclave of Cockwads … Force (I’ll think of a better name later)) the uniform was made from the cheapest, scratchiest linen EVER and I damn near scratched right through to the bone at times. I still flinch when I think of having to wear those uniforms. This when I decided that wearing two pairs of trousers and extra shirts were the only way to prevent massive scarring of my legs and arms and I would have gotten away with it had it not been for the fact that my friggin’ uniform trousers were too short so my ‘CO’ (some dickhead prefect who liked to shout at the little kids) saw secondary trousers sticking out from underneath my uniform trousers and proceeded to ball me out for not wearing the proper uniform. If I’d had the mental agility that normal people have I would have quickly pointed out that I WAS wearing the correct CCF uniform but that I just happened to be wearing my SCHOOL uniform under it at the same time. Sadly I was only able to mumble something about being uncomfortable after which he yelled at me go and get dressed properly and then made me do 50 push ups. After that I was always checked to make sure I was wearing standard issue attire and if I wasn’t, BAM, 50 push ups.
So, yea, never really had much fun with clothing. It has been a tiny bit of an issue with family and friends who would rather I looked a bit respectable and I have *tried* to compromise … a bit. I mean, I am *wearing* clothes at least. Jeez. If I had my way I’d be walking around in shorts and very little else. Of course, I’d never leave my room either because I’m far too prudish to walk around with my top off, but, dammit, I’d be in my room, naked and COMFY!! That’s the dream, boys and girls, that’s the dream.
Well, I can’t be buggered to write any more on this topic. I’ll write a bit more tomorrow about something else. Probably on the issue of … EMPATHY. That will be a tricky one, I think.